Choices
by Idan
Summary: Jane makes a choice. So Lisbon has to make one too. Based on spoilers for the rest of the season, but I doubt my interpretation will come to pass.


**Disclaimer**: No television show rights awaited me under the Christmas tree, so this is yet another year that I have no rights to or profit from The Mentalist.

**Author's Note**: Just a short something based on a guest reviewer's comments about spoilers for the back half of the season. Maybe not the most original thing I've ever written, but I hope you enjoy it!

**Choices**

When the front door opened without warning, Jane reacted out of instinct, ducking into the suspect's bedroom closet and yanking Lisbon in after him. There was barely room, and Jane had to pull her flush against him to get the door closed. Her startled protest broke off as she heard footsteps downstairs.

Jane strained to hear the newcomer's movements over the sound of his own heartbeat and the slight rasp of Lisbon's breathing, but he found himself in danger of being fatally distracted by how her body felt pressed against him. She was soft and warm, and the way her breasts moved against him with each breath was intoxicating. She smelled amazing as always, and as he moved his nose into her hair as if seeking more room, he inhaled deeply. At the same time, his cheek pressed against her temple, and he could feel her pulse thumping away as she inhaled sharply and swallowed.

He really needed to get stuck in tight places with her more often, he thought. This was the most...stimulation...he'd had in years. It was delightful. He'd almost forgotten the heady feeling of wanting a woman he cared about who cared about him in return. It was entirely different from the aesthetic admiration of beauty he'd confined himself to while pursuing his revenge; this held the thrilling possibility of consummation.

Thrilling, but also terrifying, because there would be no recovery if they failed to build a lasting relationship. He judged the odds to be in their favor, given how elastic her forgiveness had proven, as well as how effectively he could anticipate and alter her emotional states. But he was painfully aware that Lisbon's calculation of the odds had a radically different result that placed it well outside her zone of acceptable risks.

He felt Lisbon tense, and it was a measure of how fogged he'd let his mind become that he thought only about how it would feel to have her wrapped around him in orgasm and not about the suspect's whereabouts, right up until the door was flung open.

Both Jane and Lisbon grabbed for her gun as the sudden absence of the door caused them to stagger, thrown off balance.

"Huh," Cho said, moving his hand off his own weapon and taking a step back.

Lisbon shoved Jane away, nearly sending him reeling back into the closet. "Cho! I thought you were with Fischer talking to the coworkers."

"I was. Then we came here." Cho folded his arms and looked, to Jane's experienced eye, greatly amused. "Find anything?"

"Yes," Jane replied. "From the reek of aftershave on his shirts, he doesn't do laundry nearly often enough. And the closets in this place are ridiculously undersized. No need to look so scandalized, Cho—if we'd been up to anything in there, we'd both be in urgent need of a chiropractor."

Lisbon, who was already beet red, now looked like she was in imminent danger of exploding. Jane was positive he was in the kill zone of any such blast, but boy, had it been worth it.

"There's nothing up here. I'll take a look downstairs," Lisbon managed to say, not making eye contact with either of them before fleeing the room.

Jane let his grin out to play now that it wouldn't get him summarily executed. Cho looked at him, shaking his head a little. "You know you're going to pay for that," he remarked.

Jane started to walk past him, but paused long enough to murmur, "Well worth it at any price," before sauntering out of the room, whistling a happy little tune.

mmm

It wasn't often Jane was wrong, but when he was, he really was, he acknowledged ruefully two days later as he watched Lisbon blush and smile as she accepted Tim Markman's invitation to a Longhorns game (whatever that was). Still, he wasn't unduly alarmed, he concluded when he'd had a chance to think about it. Lisbon had often dated in the past, and it had never made any difference to their closeness. She could get her sports and beer fix with whomever she liked, but when he wanted to spend time with her, she'd be there.

Except, he discovered three days later, she wasn't. He invited her to come try a new Asian fusion place on their way out of the office, and she replied, "Oh, can I have a rain check? Tim's grilling steaks tonight. Do you think I should take potato salad or just some to bake?"

"Bake," he replied, because he'd rather not have Lisbon slaving away in the kitchen for Markman. Of course, knowing Lisbon, she'd been planning to pick up a carton of pre-made potato salad at the grocery store anyway.

Once could be an anomaly, he comforted himself. He waited a week to let the awkwardness fade completely for her, then repeated his attempt. "I hear that Italian place by the dry cleaners does a braised beef cannelloni to die for. Shall we give it a try?"

"I can't tonight. Tim and I are going to the range. He has a new semi-automatic to try out," she replied, sounding as though she was looking forward to it. "We're just going to grab a burger on the way."

Hm. Jane had never before considered the myriad things he and Lisbon did not have in common. But she and Markman appeared to have an abundance of shared favorite things. Had his previous closeness to her really been about the shared suffering of hunting Red John? Without that, was it possible they didn't have enough left for more than a friendship? Maybe not even that?

He spent three miserable days contemplating the idea. At the end of a long, lonely weekend, he had come to a solid conclusion: he didn't care about Lisbon because of what she did in her spare time. He wanted her because she was simply the best person he knew: trustworthy, pure of heart, and not even a little bit venal. He'd spent all his life looking for and exploiting people's weaknesses, and it was a refreshing change to look at her and see only minor foibles, such as her wanting to drive all the time as a result of her control freak tendencies, and rather endearing idiosyncrasies, like her impatience and sarcasm.

Why Lisbon should want him was, he knew, a rather more difficult question. Loyalty? He'd abandoned her twice now. Three times if you counted choosing detention for three months after his return, during which he couldn't even write her, which he had a dismal suspicion she did. Hell, she probably counted his disappearance for one short day in Brooklyn as another abandonment. So there went loyalty, dependability, and trustworthiness. Not that trustworthiness had ever been in the running, given her numerous complaints about his lying over the years.

In the end, he concluded that all he had to offer her was his insight into her moods and thoughts, which he wasn't sure she would count as a positive thing; his longstanding care of her, though he wondered how she'd weigh all the times he'd fed her against all the paperwork and tirades he'd made her endure; and his physical attractiveness, which was not, he knew, inconsiderable, though by now Lisbon had built up a partial immunity based on familiarity.

He decided he had to stop thinking about this, or he would end up in a bar somewhere adding to Lisbon's list of reasons not to date him. Of course, maybe that was the problem: he'd never actually expressed a desire to date her. He'd taken the cowardly, ambiguous route of asking her to hang out like the buddies she fooled herself into thinking they were.

That could be rectified. Immediately.

Lisbon had flown back to Washington for the weekend to finalize the sale of her house, so at least he hadn't had to worry about the progression of her relationship with Markman during his thinking time. He was certain from the hopeful way the agent was sniffing around her that there'd been no consummation yet, which was at once comforting and alarming. Comforting because the thought of Lisbon sleeping with another man made him want to punch things, but alarming because it seemed to indicate she had more than a casual interest in this man.

Clearly, now was the time to act.

mmm

Jane texted Lisbon with an offer to pick her up at the airport, but she responded that Tim was taking care of it. Jane was really developing an alarming amount of animosity toward the man, who was harmless other than his suddenly ubiquitous presence in Lisbon's life. So Jane took the less attractive but necessary step of waiting outside Lisbon's new apartment. He was disturbed that Markman was allowed to carry Lisbon's suitcase inside, but comforted when he left after only 10 minutes. Of course, that probably meant she was tired and therefore cranky, but he could defuse that.

He swallowed down a rare feeling of anxiety as he knocked on her door. It vanished as soon as the door opened and Lisbon's smile of welcome turned to puzzlement. "Oh, I thought you were Tim having car trouble or something. Hi, Jane. Do we have a case?"

"No. I just wanted a minute to talk to you," he said, stepping forward in hopes she would move out of the doorway and let him in.

"And you thought the best time to do that was after I've been on a plane all day?" she asked incredulously. But she let him in, forehead creased in concern. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"No. Well, yes." He could have slapped his forehead; where had his vaunted cool gone?

"Okay." Lisbon led the way through the moving boxes stacked in the hall to her living room, gesturing to the couch as she took the chair. "What's up?"

Jane started to second guess himself, an annoying and unaccustomed sensation. "I miss you," he blurted out.

Lisbon frowned. "I'm right here. We see each other at work all day every day. How can you possibly miss me?"

"We're never alone together anymore. We used to have time to talk, on drives or late when everybody else was gone." The FBI never slept; the office was decidedly unrestful at any hour.

Lisbon's eyes softened. "Yeah. It's all different now, I know."

"And you spend all your free time with Tim." Oops. That had come out much more whiney than he'd intended.

Lisbon sighed. When she spoke, her voice was gentle and caring, like she was speaking to a child. "And you feel neglected. Jane, I will always be there for you. I hope you know that. I know I haven't had much time for you lately, but I'll do better. And you know what? You should start making some other friends, maybe go on a date now and then."

He seized on the opportunity. "That sounds great. Will you go out with me?"

"Ha, ha." She rolled her eyes.

"No, I was serious."

The look on her face was priceless. Her mouth opened and closed silently as her eyes grew big and round. The overall effect would have been comic if he hadn't had so much riding on the outcome.

She swallowed and said, "Jane...I'm seeing Tim."

"You can't possibly be exclusive so soon," he pointed out.

"Well, no, not officially. But I told him we were just friends!"

"And so we were. But things change."

Lisbon rubbed at her forehead. "Jane...please don't do this."

"Do what? Act on my feelings at long last? Why not?" He tried to keep his tone even, but really, he'd hoped for a slightly more enthusiastic reception.

"Because you don't mean it. You're just jealous and lonely and you think if you break up me and Tim, things will go back to how they used to be." She folded her arms, and he saw a glint of anger in her eye.

"No," he said in frustration. "I don't want things to be like they used to be. I want to spend time with you and have fun without being worried it'll get you killed. I want to tell you what you mean to me without thinking it will probably be my last chance. I want to know what it feels like to kiss you and hold you and tell you that I love you without you looking at me like I've lost my mind. Yes, that look right there."

"Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "After all those years of lying, tricking, and manipulating me, you've suddenly decided you're attracted to me?"

"No. I've known I was attracted to you for years, since shortly after we met, actually. I knew I cared about you some time later, and I achieved absolute clarity about your importance in my life around the time I found you unconscious with a bomb strapped to you. I discovered it wasn't just working with you that I valued during my exile in Vegas. And I found out that I'm incapable of being truly happy without you no matter my surroundings in Venezuela."

"So why has it taken so long for you to say anything?" She still wasn't buying it.

"I wanted us to regain our footing, get used to each other again. And I was hoping to prove to you that I'm sticking around, because I know you don't quite believe it yet. And I know I have a lot to make up to you, and we don't have a lot of hobbies in common, so I was trying to think of some extravagant gesture to prove my sincerity. But I haven't had time to sort out my finances yet so I can buy you a house or a car or something—"

"Jane, stop! You will NOT buy me a house or a car or anything that costs more than half a paycheck. Understand?" She looked more alarmed than angry.

He immediately started calculating the price limit she'd set, then dismissed it as a lower priority than convincing her that he wasn't up to something. "Fine, if you insist."

She sighed. "I guess the fact that you're babbling should tell me something."

He tried a smile. "You do have a rather unnerving effect on me."

"Jane." His heart sank at her tone and the fact that she wasn't looking at him. "You are so important to me. I mean, that's obvious, right? I left my whole life behind to come work with you again. But I don't think we'd work as anything more than friends. I don't want anything serious, and I'm betting you don't do casual."

_Nice try_, he thought. "You mean I've broken your heart once already and you're not giving me a second chance."

She shot a wry glance at him. "Second? Hell, Jane, it would be a third or fourth. But listen to what I'm telling you. I'm not serious about Tim. You don't need to worry that I'm going to move in with him and you'll only see me at work, okay?"

"You may not be serious, but he is. Eventually he'll want more, and you'll feel a little guilty and a little flattered and you'll decide to give it a try." He could see it all so clearly.

"And if I do, I promise I'll still make time for you," she said.

He knew she believed it, but he also knew it was a lie. "I want more than that," he said flatly.

"It's my life, Jane. What I want is what matters."

"Yes, it is. I'm just telling you that you can have what you want. I know you haven't believed that, but things are different now. I'm different now."

She looked at him, and he watched her search for a rebuttal. But he was different. The beard, his clothes, his attitude, all were different. When her eyes moved to his hands, he waggled the fingers of his left at her to show her the ring was gone too. That was the latest change, and her eyes widened.

"Look," he said, getting to his feet. "It's your life. It's your decision. I just wanted to make sure you're aware of all your options."

She stood as well, rolling her eyes a little. "Right. Because you never manipulate people into doing what you want. You always let them make choices about their lives."

"I didn't try to manipulate you into taking the FBI job," he pointed out.

"You were in isolation. And you knew I would take it," she retorted.

"I haven't tried to meddle in your romance with Tim."

"Unless you count tonight, which, by the way, I do!"

"No, Lisbon. If I chose to meddle, you'd never know it until it was too late."

She stared at him, but she couldn't argue because they both knew it was true. He gentled his tone and stance. "I know you're afraid. So am I. What we have is important, and it took us a long time to get here. But I really believe we could make each other happy. And I want to be happy. More importantly, I want you to be happy. And if you decide that you'll be happier with Tim, I'll try to accept that. But I really, really hope you won't make me, because I'm trying to be a better man, but I have a long way to go."

Lisbon sighed. Jane took the opportunity to step close to her and press a kiss to her cheek, just close enough to the corner of her mouth to be more than friendly. Her eyes fluttered closed as he lingered there, inhaling her scent and memorizing the texture of her skin. As he stepped back, he was pleased to see her hands rise fractionally, as if she'd stopped herself from reaching for him.

"Good night," he said, letting all his affection into his voice, as he headed for the door.

mmm

Th next morning, Jane woke with a sense of anticipation that was increasingly soured by dread as he approached the office. He would know the verdict the second he set eyes on Lisbon, he was sure. He'd lain awake most of the night considering all the variables, and he'd decided his chances were about 60/40, far too low for comfort. Because although Lisbon was attracted to him and loved him—and might even admit those things to herself—she was good at denying herself things that she wanted but didn't think she should have. And he had to be at the top of that list.

He wondered if he could revise his pitch at this late stage and suggest some no-strings-attached fun in bed. He was confident he could seduce her and keep her coming back for more, but he wasn't sure she'd buy the proposed lack of commitment. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't looking to play the field, and even if they made no commitments he'd make damn sure to keep her path clear of temptations to stray.

If she chose Tim, though, he'd have to honor his word and not meddle. Hopefully that torture wouldn't last long, because he wasn't sure how much of it he could take.

Lisbon was already at her desk. He wished he'd had the presence of mind to bring her a latte, but he settled for a smile and a quiet, "Good morning" on his way to his couch. Lisbon wouldn't want any of their personal issues to appear in the office, after all.

She glanced up at him, and the uncertainty in her eyes made relief wash over him. He was still in the running. She hadn't made up her mind.

He behaved himself all day, confining himself to a little judicious poking at Fischer and Abbott because he knew Lisbon secretly enjoyed that. But his resolve faltered when Markman stopped by Lisbon's desk just before quitting time. "We still on for tonight?"

She smiled up at him. "Of course. I'd hardly stand you up for a reservation it took you a week to get. See you at seven."

"You sure I can't pick you up?"

"No, but thanks. I may decide to be fashionably late," she teased.

"Duly noted. I'll just hang out in the bar looking pathetically available until you show up," he grinned.

_You do that_, Jane thought fiercely. Any normal woman would do for a guy like that; why did he have to pursue the only woman in the world who could put up with himself? Of course, just because Lisbon could didn't mean she should have to. And she was all too aware of that.

Lisbon had gathered up her things and came to stand in front of his couch. "Stop that," she murmured.

"Stop what?" He hadn't been doing anything, after all.

"Looking like a lost puppy."

Oh. That. Yes, he was definitely doing that, though it wasn't strictly voluntary. He aimed his pathetic glance up at her with a broken smile. "Sorry."

She sighed. "Really?" she said, almost a whisper.

"Really," he confirmed.

She hesitated, then said, "I'll call you later."

The hope that leapt into him must have been visible in his eyes, because she gave a tiny smile and shake of her head that translated as _I don't know what I'm going to do with you._

That was fine. He had a list of suggestions.

mmm

It was only ten o'clock when the knock came at his trailer door. He took that as a good sign, since he'd braced himself for a two a.m. call on her way home where he'd have to hear the satisfaction in her voice and know he hadn't been the one to put it there. Her showing up in person meant there'd been no sex, because she knew he'd smell it on her figuratively if not literally.

He opened the door for her with a sunny smile that turned appreciative as he took in the low-cut midnight blue dress with the short skirt. "Wow. You look amazing." He couldn't take his eyes off her legs. Why on earth did she feel the need to hide those all the time? Possibly so she wouldn't cause traffic accidents walking down the street.

"You look...comfortable," she replied, taking in his t-shirt and jeans.

"I didn't think I had plans tonight," he said mildly, closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, well, since you ruined mine, I thought it was only fair," she snarked.

"Did you not have a nice time?"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Jane. You know perfectly well I spent the whole evening thinking about you. Don't pretend you didn't do that on purpose."

"I won't deny it. I said I wouldn't meddle; I didn't say I wouldn't fight for you. With any means at my disposal."

"I suppose you think I might as well save us both some time and just give in now." She folded her arms and glared at him.

He did, actually, but he knew better than to say that. "What fun would that be? You know you want to torture me a little. I even admit I deserve it. I'm glad you decided not to do it by having sex with Tim, though."

"He deserves better than that," she snapped.

"I have no doubt he does. Would you like to sit? I don't have any coffee since I wasn't expecting you, but I have some of that rose hip tea you like."

"Stop trying to turn this into a social call." She sounded frustrated, her arms pressed tightly against her stomach like she was holding herself together. When she looked at him, the pain in her eyes was like a punch to the gut.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently.

"You! You're the matter! Why did you have to do this to me? Why can't you just let me have a normal life?" she cried.

He stepped closer, wanting to touch her but knowing she wouldn't accept it yet. "A nice normal life where nobody can break your heart because you keep it locked away?"

She let out a "hah!" that was meant to be sarcastic but was too hoarse to really pull it off. "It's too damn late for that."

"I know." He kept his tone even and his voice soft. She was acting like a wounded animal because he had wounded her, he reminded himself. Repeatedly. And what he was offering her held as much potential for heartache as happiness, from her perspective. "If it's any consolation, you have my heart in your hands too."

She looked at him again, skeptically. "Oh really? Have you ever cried over me?"

"Yes."

Her frown was the one she gave lying suspects. "When?"

"In the hospital, after Red John painted your face. Just a little, because anybody could have come in. More later when I was alone that night. After I left you on that cliff near Malibu, because I didn't think I'd ever see you again and I knew you were hating me. While I was gone, I shed some tears on your birthday, wishing I could be with you and give you something that would make your face light up. And I would have cried over you tonight if you'd chosen Tim instead."

He watched her expression open back up as she listened, the skepticism giving way reluctantly to acceptance—and fear. "You better mean this, Jane," she whispered in a tremulous voice. "You goddamned well better mean this."

"I do. I promise you, I do," he replied. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. He meant to keep it soft and restrained, but when he felt her hands come to rest tentatively on his arms, he wrapped them around her and slid his tongue along her lips until she opened to him. Then he ravished her mouth, showing her the ferocity of his desire and wishing he'd done it back in that closet and saved them both the uncertainty of the last few weeks. He didn't come to his senses until he had to tear his mouth free to breathe, only then realizing he'd backed her against the table. God, he was so tempted to push her up on it and slide his hands under that skirt. But he had something to prove to her.

"You're in control of this," he panted, resting his forehead against hers. "We can take this slow if you want. You can torture me by making me wait, prove my devotion, whatever. Or I can take you to bed right now, this instant, and show you all the ways I've dreamed of making love to you over the years."

"Well," she breathed, sliding her hands up and down his arms, "it does seem a little unfair to let Tim buy me a fancy dinner and then come here and have sex with you."

"If he got to look at you in that dress all evening, I'd say he got his reward," Jane replied.

"I doubt he'd agree with you," she said. "I feel like I should break up with him before anything happens between us."

Of course she did. She was nothing if not fair. "Torture it is," he said, backing away and trying for a smile. "Will you call him tonight?"

"I think I'd better. No sense drawing it out."

"Then can I please take you to dinner tomorrow?" He let his desperation show.

"Okay. But only if you swear—solemnly swear, Jane—that you'll never leave me again. Because I couldn't take it."

"I swear," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "I'll never leave you again. And if you leave me, I'll be right behind you so I can throw myself at your feet and beg you to come back." He gave in to his impulse to take her in his arms again. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Teresa. I've learned all my lessons, answered all my questions. And the only thing I care about now is being with you."

She hugged him back, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as she held on tightly.

"You made the right choice," he said, hoping to reassure her.

She put her mouth against his ear, sighing, "There never was any choice."


End file.
